Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Georgia, South Ossetia, Russia, the Western Powers and What Should Have Been Learned A Long Time Ago
The school year had begun and President John Kennedy was still alive. I was 9 years old and in the 5th grade in 1963. Late that summer, I had been at Mercy Hospital in Sacramento, California for corrective surgery to my left foot.
By October, the surgery had healed enough that I could walk with a "walker cast", a simple plaster cast with a rubber peg woven into the plaster sole. Walking was still difficult and painful. My teacher, Mrs. Hubbard, excused me early from class everyday so I could walk to the school bus before the bell rang without having to contend with hundreds of kids running wild at the end of the day.
It really wasn't very far to the buses and I usually got to the school front before the buses arrived. It was late autumn and the temperatures in Auburn would cool quickly after 3:00PM. This day was no different. I sat on the concrete walkway in the sun to keep warm. One of the school bullies was wandering the school grounds when he found me sitting alone.
He began with taunting words, then moved to pushing my casted leg with his foot. I asked him to stop. He started kicking my injured leg. Though encased in thick plaster, the shock hurt. Shortly, I was in tears, yelling at him to stop because he was hurting me. I took a feeble swing at him and caught him in the knee, but he didn't stop. He moved to the end of by leg and repeatedly kicked hard at the bottom of my healing foot. Searing pain shot up my leg and I cried all the more. And the bully laughed and kicked all the more.
Finally, I was able to get up while still being kicked, punched, and pushed into the wall. By the time I was upright, the bell rang and the bully ran off. I went to the Principal's office and told the secretary and the nurse what had happened. They summoned Mr. Schuh, the Principal, and I told him the story and the name of my tormentor. He said he would take care of it. I got on my bus and went home. I was satisfied because tomorrow the bully would get what he deserved and I would be protected while I awaited the bus in the sun.
The next day, a secretary came to my class shortly before the time I was usually excused. She escorted me to the office to await the bus. Nothing ever happened to the bully. Everyday, until the the cast was removed about a week later, I spent the last few minutes of the day in the Principal's office as if I had done something wrong.
I know, I know ... Indigo, that was horrible, but what does that have to do with Georgia, South Ossetia, Russia, and the Western powers?
At 9 years of age, I learned that those whom I thought were going to protect me, were supposed to protect me, simply didn't. Instead of dealing with the offender, it was me who was removed from the world. What happened to the weak member wasn't as important as not antagonizing the bully.
Essentially, appeasement of the strong bully is cheaper and easier than taking positive action to protect the weak. It is more expedient to quarantine the aggressed than to contain the aggressor. I learned this at nine.
Georgia simply doesn't matter to the West. They have nothing and bring nothing to any international relationship. Russia has much and brings much to any relationship. Russia is strong, capable of doing great harm or accomplishing much good. It's a simple fact of life that Georgia has paid dearly to learn. Georgia is weak and nobody cares. Georgia doesn't matter.
The life of Indigo Red is full of adventure. Tune in next time for the Further Adventures of Indigo Red.